12 Fics of Christmas
by TARDISTraveller
Summary: Series of Oneshots for the 12 days leading up to Christmas. Featuring the Twelfth Doctor and Clara Oswald. (Not completely canon-compliant)
1. Christmas Carols

The 12 fics of Christmas

Day 1: Christmas Carols

The Doctor was beginning to regret joining Clara on what she called an 'adventure in her world'. He had been expecting danger; dark alleys; fun; running. Instead, he had been met with only walking and carols. So many carols. How many versions of Jingle Bells could the human race possibly create?

It had started well enough. He and Clara had ventured off in a beautiful, snowy old village Clara had visited when she was a child. She had told him with a twinkle in her eye all about the gingerbread houses she and her parents had built, the snowball fights they partook in, and all of the snow angels she had engraved in the snow. Enough to fill Heaven, she had said.

Their hands were entwined almost the entire time, hers warming his with her purple and blue striped woolen mittens. Their feet were in sync and the snow crunched beneath their boots. A feeling of warmth and comfort and utter bliss had filled the Doctor almost immediately. Then the carolers came.

It started with just two or three young college students standing beside a wonderfully lit tree. They had their little folders filled with old holiday tunes, their faces bright with spirit and joy. It was actually quite nice. Clara seemed to really enjoy them. She even dropped a pound or two into a donation basket they carried.

Five minutes later, another group of singers came. This group was traveling, taking up almost the entire sidewalk. Clara and the Doctor were forced to hide in the entranceway of a nearby cookie shop to avoid being trampled. The group passed by with pointed looks at the Doctor and Clara.

When that group had finally gone, the two time travelers freed themselves from the cookie shop foyer and started down the road again, searching for something fun to do for the rest of the evening. The sun was reflecting off of the snow, giving it a gorgeous yellow glow among the dark shadows of the trees and buildings. The Doctor was entranced.

Suddenly, a belting soprano voice crooned in his ear, nearly deafening him. It was Jingle Bells. Of course it was. Clara pulled the Doctor by the arm out of the way of a large caroling group that had nearly ran him over as he was staring at the snow. With wide eyes, the Doctor regained his sense of hearing enough to pick out about three wrong notes from the enormous congregation of singers. The musician inside him cringed.

"Not a fan of Christmas carols, eh Doctor?" The Doctor merely shook his head in reply. He hadn't really heard Clara's question properly, anyway, over the screaming carolers beside him.

The sun set quickly, and soon it was time to head back to the TARDIS and get Clara to sleep. The Doctor had a whole day worked out on the planet Spiron for when she woke up and he wanted to make sure she had enough energy to keep up with the racing Hoptoids. Unfortunately, the singing banshees weren't quite done with him yet. Just as he pulled out his shiny key and began unlocking the old, creaky blue door, a voice rang out behind him. Then another joined. Then more. Soon, the whole village was crooning their obnoxious rendition of 'we wish you a Merry Christmas' directly into his ear. Clara smiled politely towards them and joined in their tune, forcing an exasperated sigh from the Tumelord beside her as he finally got the door open.

"Just admit it; you know you enjoyed their singing."

The Doctor paced to the controls, turning levers and pushing buttons as fast as lightning to both get out quickly and avoid Clara's mocking. His human companion followed behind with a playful grin on her face.

"They were completely out of tune. You'd think with all the singing they do they'd at least be decent."

Clara gripped the handle of the scanner and swayed towards him as the ship took off. "Aw, c'mon; they weren't that bad."

They Doctor gave her a two second long stare of disbelief, then started towards her. "Right; time for you to go to bed."

"I'm not even tired."

"Of course you are."

"Doctor!"

The Doctor had put his hands on her shoulders and guided her towards the corridor leading to her TARDIS bedroom. Clara lightly pushed him off and, with a grin, turned to him and walked backwards towards her room. "Look; I'm going. Happy?"

They shared one last playful chuckle before Clara spun back to the corridor and skipped to her door. The Doctor watched her go with both joy and a bit of regret. Though he knew she needed her sleep and knew he had been the one to enforce her bedtimes on the TARDIS, he couldn't help but wish for her to stay awake with him. It got lonely for a Timelord when he had too much 'time' by himself.

Boots scuffled down the metal staircase to the underbelly of the TARDIS, where dimmer lighting and a quieter atmosphere always proved soothing to the Doctor, even on his most stressful days. This time, Sexy had made sure his guitar was already leaning on a plugged in amp by the wall. How did she always know?

The Doctor lifted the guitar strap up and over his head, then turned the volume up slightly on the amplifier and took a pick out of his jacket pocket. It was an oldie but a goodie and it had once been owned by Johnny Cash. The story of how it came to arrive in the TARDIS was a blur for all involved, but there was something about a Zygon in there somewhere.

Before he knew it, the Doctor had begun strumming. The strings felt like time and space beneath his fingertips, reverberating and sending waves out into the atmosphere. It was such a luxurious sound. Such a wonderful feeling. He didn't care what song he was playing; in fact, it never crossed his mind. It was just so calming. Standing beneath his time machine's control deck; not a worry in the world. Clara asleep down the hall. Freedom like he always dreamed of in those days back on Gallifrey. A scared kid, he had been. Look at him now.

"Not such a bad song after all, is it, Doctor?"

The Doctor's fingers slid abruptly off of the strings, causing an ugly, screechy sound from the amp. Looking especially jumpy and owlish, his eyes beamed up into Clara's. When had she even gotten there?

"What?"

She leaned over the railing, already dressed for bed in a nightgown and light pink robe. "Jingle Bells. I heard you playing."

"That wasn't Jingle Bells. It was...you know I just forgot the name of it."

"It was Jingle Bells."

"No; no way. I'd never let myself play that sort of rubbish."

Clara turned away from the railing, a playful smile still written on her face. "Whatever you say, Doctor."

As she walked away, she called out a quick "Goodnight," then disappeared. Quietly, the Doctor began strumming a tune, looking up every few minutes to check for any sign of his companion, but none came.

It was midnight Clara's time when a faint but unmistakable song began humming throughout the TARDIS. The Doctor had soniced his guitar so it now required no amp as he strolled down the corridor towards Clara's door. Softly he pushed the door open between notes and peeked inside to find a slowly awakening young human. "Clara."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to awaken the already stirring inhabitant. She dazedly opened her eyes and sat up, turning on the light as soon as she was coherent enough to do so. "What is it, Doctor?"

"I learned a new song."

Clara looked bemusedly at her alarm clock. "It's midnight. Can't this wait till morning?"

"I might not be brave enough in the morning."

At this, Clara's eyebrow raised. She was fully awake now, and watching the Doctor's every awkward shuffle with curiosity. Finally, his fingers began pressing down the strings and, after a quick smile to his companion, he began playing and then, shockingly, singing.

"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas. Just like the ones I used to know. Where the treetops glisten and children listen to hear sleigh bells in the snow."

Clara's hands were over her mouth, both wiping tears out of her eyes and covering the giant smile that had taken over half of her face. By the end of the fourth verse, she had given up hiding. Joyous tears stained her face and flowed into her wide, gappy smile.

When the Doctor strummed his last chord, Clara let out a small chuckle, then burst up out of bed and wrapped her arms around him tightly. Though taken by surprise, the Doctor quickly warmed into it and let go of his guitar, letting the strap catch it as he returned the hug. Clara rested her face on his shoulder and gathered herself before stepping back and looking up into his eyes. "That was my mum's favorite Christmas song. How did you know?"

"You told me."

"When?"

The Doctor scratched his neck, gazing at everything but Clara. "Two years ago?"

"How on Earth did you remember that?"

The Timelord dropped his hand to his side and took a deep breath, then met her eyes once more. "How could I forget something that's so important to my best friend?"

Clara's eyes seemed to inflate. In a matter of seconds, her arms were back around his neck in a tight embrace. "Thank you, Doctor."

The Doctor closed his eyes as their foreheads dropped to each other's shoulders. This was home. Here, in the TARDIS, with Clara Oswald. Even if he had to endure all of the Christmas carols in the world, this was worth it. In fact, maybe, just maybe, the Christmas songs weren't so bad after all.


	2. It's a Wonderful Lfe

Day 2:

It's a Wonderful Life

Ever since last Christmas, the Doctor and Clara's relationship had become a beautiful mix of adventure and relaxation; playful teasing and heartwarming care. It was hard to believe that just a year ago they had been awkward and slightly frightened when they were around each other. It was like looking at old photographs; things never made sense in hindsight.

As for tonight, snow was falling outside Clara's window and Christmas lights were strewn on nearly every house across the street. It was a bit chilly in her flat (teacher's wages didn't cover the cost of a good heater), so the Doctor and Clara were huddled on the couch for warmth. Clara's knees were tucked up beside her and her head rested on the Doctor's shoulder, arms holding his arm loosely. He was sat up a bit straighter, his feet resting on the table in front of them.

The Telly acted as the only light in the room, making their faces glow different colors as the images flickered. At some point, one of them had flipped on It's a Wonderful Life, but neither of them were seriously watching it. The volume was turned as low as it could while still being hearable.

Clara lifted her chin and turned up to the Doctor. His eyes were watching the screen, but he seemed unfocused and tired. "You want to go to bed?"

The Doctor blinked out of his daze and gazed down at Clara. "No, no; that's okay."

She turned back to the screen and snuggled deeper into his arm. A woollen blanket was draped over her small form, (the Doctor had insisted she get it since he was a big, strong Timelord and had a 'superior biology' and all that; she hadn't put much of a fight), giving her all the warmth she could possibly ask for, even on a bitter night like this. She gazed at the screen with an unconscious smile.

She felt the Doctor's arm shift as his other one raise up to his mouth, covering a yawn unsuccessfully. Her smile widened slightly. "You sure you're not sleepy?"

Her mischievous eyes shifted up to meet his icy blue ones. His mouth opened to retort, but before he could, his mouth widened and he yawned once more. "There must be something wrong with the oxygen in here. You should really get that checked out."

Clara bit her lip to keep from laughing at him. Seeing the Doctor this defensive and sleepy was a rare treat that she didn't want to punish. Without another word, she turned back to the Telly for the last time and finally focused on the movie, which was already coming to an end.

As the credits rolled down the screen, Clara let out a sigh that was only partially caused by annoyance. "Can you grab the remote?"

The Doctor didn't reply, causing Clara's head to turn upwards at him again. When she did, the sight that met her eyes brought a wide smile back onto her face. His head was dropped nearly to his chest, eyes closed, breathing slow and peaceful. There had been only one or two instances where Clara had ever seen the Doctor sleeping, so this was an even rarer treat than a Timelord lost for words. Slowly, she raised her head off of his shoulder and sat up, carefully shifting her weight so as not to disturb him. Then, she pulled the blanket away from her and laid it on the sofa cushion where she had been sitting. Finally, with light and carefully planned steps, she tip-toed around the footstool to the side table where the remote lay, turned a lamp on, and then flipped off the Telly. Her eyes were been glued to the Doctor the entire time.

Silence filled the room, leaving only the quiet rush of outdoor traffic and the Doctor's slow breathing for the ear's content. Clara returned to her side of the couch and put a finger to her chin. Leaving the Doctor with his head bent the way it was seemed a bit irresponsible. His neck was surely going to be feeling it tomorrow if he stayed like this all night. It was for this reason that Clara went against her will and gently put her hands on the Doctor's shoulders, trying to ease him down without waking him.

Of course, she was unsuccessful. As soon as she leaned him down towards the couch, his eyes cracked open slightly and he began mumbling incoherently. By the time his top half was lying down and his feet were still propped up on the footstool, he was practically awake. Clara shooshed him quietly as she brought his feet over to join the rest of him. "Go back to sleep."

Remarkably, the Doctor didn't protest. In fact, the only reaction Clara got from him was a faint, "G'night, Clara," and he was back asleep. The young teacher smiled to herself and, with a little more confidence, picked up the blanket she had thrown on the floor to make room for the Doctor and laid it on top of him, covering him in its warm, woollen embrace.

Looking over the sleeping Timelord, Clara felt her heart melt. He seemed so peaceful. So calm. She now realized that she had never seen the Doctor this relaxed. Even lately, though they were making leaps and bounds in the 'touching' department, he was never able to sit for very long. Never able to close his eyes. This was bliss.

Clara snapped back into focus as a yawn overcame her. 'Better get to bed soon myself', she thought to herself. Slowly, she passed over to the Doctor once more, where she listened to his slow, even breathing for a moment. Almost silently, she whispered, "Goodnight, Doctor," and place a small kiss on his forehead. He made a mumbling noise in reply.

Clara turned on a hallway light before coming back and turning off the lamp next to the couch. She glanced back once more as she exited, just to see the Doctor once more and smile to herself because this was real and life had finally reached a good, calm point again. After another yawn, she forced herself to her bedroom to prepare for what was sure to be another adventurous day tomorrow.


	3. Winter Wonderland

Day 3:

Winter Wonderland

White. Blank. Endless. Three words to describe the situation they were in.

Frozen. Numb. Blinded. Three words to describe how Clara felt.

The day hadn't exactly gone as planned. (did it ever?) A lovely new planet; sightseeing. As beautiful as it ever was. Then came the angry aliens; the running; the leaving the TARDIS behind. All in a day's work, really. Only this time, they had gotten lost. Completely and utterly lost in a barren wasteland of a place. The worst part? A blizzard had just blown in.

The wind whipped the snow and ice into the human and Timelord's faces, causing the already bad visibility to drop to 0%. It also tore into their clothes, seeping into the fabric, clinging to their skin. Not the comfiest form of preicipitation. It climbed in their shoes as they walked, hopping up off the snow-filled ground. There wasn't anything that could stop of cold.

As for the land, it was hilly and invisible. Every so often, one of them slipped, but they always caught themselves before any harm could be done. Nothing but white could be seen for miles, or maybe it was only a few feet. It was impossible to tell, after all.

When Clara's feet were finally too numb to put up with anymore, she pulled on the Doctor's wet sleeve and called out above the storm. "We have to find shelter."

The Doctor nodded his head in reply and glanced around. Of course, no such place existed. There weren't hotels on this planet. At least, there wouldn't be for another two hundred years. Maybe they should've come then.

So they kept on walking, boots crunching the building levels of snow with every step, legs moving slower and slower as time passed. After what felt like a year of painful trekking, Clara finally felt her vision becoming just a little bit clearer.

"Is it just me, or is the storm slowing?"

The Doctor squinted through the falling snow. "Yes; I think so."

Gradually, the wind calmed and the snow drifted into a casual flurry. Feeling seemed to come back into Clara's legs and she nearly jogged to the top of a nearby hill, looking out at the distant fields with a close eye. "I think I see a cave!"

The Doctor joined her on the peak, sharing her newfound smile warmly. "After you."

Clara hopped through the thick snow as fast as she could, nearly sprinting as she neared the mouth of the cave. It wasn't huge; more an oddly shaped rock than a cave, but it would suffice for now. Clara spun in a circle as she let out a grateful chuckle. Sure, it wasn't heated or full of riches, but they were finally out of the snow.

The Doctor sauntered in, quickly pulling off his snow-covered jacket and wrapping it around Clara's shoulders. "You need this more than I do."

Clara tugged the warm inner fabric around her tightly and sat against the wall of the cave. The Doctor sank beside her, eyes staring at a spot on the rock face; brain running through every detail and possibility of escape. Clara eyed him with curiosity and wonder. "How long do you think we'll stay in here?"

"Just a few hours. The storm should be gone by then and the sun will be higher. Then we'll find out where we are."

"What should we do until then?"

The Doctor rubbed his palms together. "Stay warm. Don't freeze to death. Simple."

Clara tightened her grip on his jacket, feeling slightly guilty with the Doctor sitting next to her with nothing but his shirt to keep him warm. She could almost hear his teeth chattering from a few feet away.

Exhaustion soon chased any guilty feelings from Clara's mind, leaving her nothing but wishes of a warm bed and some quality sleep time. Her eyelids began drooping and soon she was struggling just to stay awake. The Doctor had his eyes closed, trying desperately to keep a mental image of heat.

Minutes crept by. Clara drifted in and out of sleep while the Doctor gradually grew more and more cold. The storm, thankfully, seemed to be slowing more and more as time passed. When the Doctor figured they had been in the cave for an hour and a half, Clara opened her eyes, fully awake at last. Quietly, she sat back up and came back to her senses.

The Doctor was visibly shaking now. Though he was doing a good job of acting fine, his teeth were chattering and every few minutes, his body would shiver in a quick spasm. His eyes were still closed, but Clara knew he wasn't sleeping. She freed her arm from his jacket and shook his arm gently. His eyes darted open.

"Come here."

The Doctor's eyebrows furrowed. Clara motioned towards the jacket and her arm, compelling him to shift over until their bodies touched. She adjusted the jacket so it laid over both of them, sacrificing a portion that had been on her right arm. The sudden added heat made them both feel much better about their situation. Now it seemed completely possible to stay like this for another two hours. In fact, both of them would've accepted being in that cave for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately for them, time now progressed at its normal speed. Neither of them slept, so when the sun's rays began slithering towards the mouth of the cave, they both knew it was time to get going. The Doctor was the first to push the jacket off of himself and stand. Clara watched him walk outside and look around the plain. He spun around to face her suddenly. "Clara! Come look!"

Clara jumped up and joined him, jacket in tow. In the distance, just over a nearby hill, five log cabins could easily be seen. Their windows were decorated with oddly familiar drapes and a tree in the center garden of the buildings gave Clara dejavu. "Isn't that...?"

The Doctor nodded. It was the same village they had arrived in all those hours ago. The TARDIS had been sitting just over a hill all this time and they didn't even know it. Clara almost wanted to be angry, but she simply laughed; as did the Doctor.

As they made their way slowly back to the time machine, they contemplated the fearsome wind and haven-like cave, thinking maybe this was exactly what was supposed to happen. Maybe this was secretly what they both wanted to happen.


	4. After Effects Pt 1

Day 4:

After effects pt. 1

When the Doctor and Clara finally arrived back to the TARDIS following their last cave adventure, the young human noticed a significant change in the Doctor's behavior. They had both changed and had a cup of tea, as usual, and then returned to the Console room. It was then that Clea noticed an odd shift in the Doctor's mood. Firstly, his gait was much slower than usual, dashing about more like a turtle than a penguin. Secondly, he seemed to have picked up a cough at some point during the day, trying but failing to hide it from her as he turned away every few minutes.

As they took off, Clara watched his hands ghost over the controls, only stopping as he pulled down a lever. She could see them trembling from where she stood. Silently, she took a step closer to him and placed her hand on his. His owlish gaze darted towards her instantly. She mentally noted how bloodshot his eye seemed to be.

"Are you okay?"

The Timelord waved off the human's worry. "Of course; I'm always okay."

He quickly flitted away from her, to the other side of the Console, where she saw him run at his nose. With a sigh, she followed him.

His fingers were flying over buttons again, typing coordinates into a scanner and then cranking a switch, causing the ship to lurch and the Time Rotor to rise and fall. Clara let a little smile dance on her face. This was always her favorite part. A time of infinite possibility. Anywhere is possible. Anywhen is possible. As the ship faded into existence outside and the beautiful sound entered her ears, Clara's heart beat faster, nearly forgetting about the Doctor's strange behavior. Quickly, ran to the entranceway, ready to see a new world and taste alien air, and threw open the creaky doors. Her bedroom lay outside.

Clara sighed inwardly, a bit disappointed,?though her exhausted limbs were happy to see her bed. The Doctor came into the doorway as she took a step out of the warm embrace of the TARDIS. Crossing her arms, Clara spun around to face him. "Are we done traveling today?"

The Doctor's brows were furrowed, eyes gazing absently to the bed and mirror. When he spoke, his voice sounded just a little hoarse. "I was aiming for the moon."

Two heels clicked towards him, a look of worry written on their owner's wide face. "You sure you're ok?"

The Doctor waved her off once more. "It's probably the trajectory unit. I've been meaning to fix it for days now."

"Or maybe the TARDIS is trying to tell you something."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, turning back to the doors, which had closed on their own behind him. His hand flew to the handle and pulled, but all of his strength wasn't enough to pry the door open. He added a second hand and then a key, but to no avail. He was locked out. Clara watched the scene unfolds with growing humor and, when the Timelord finally gave up and turned back to meet her gaze, she couldn't repress a laugh. The Doctor scratched the back of his neck.

"It seems I need to fix door as well."

"Come on."

Clara tugged his arm, nearly dragging him toward the bed until he finally sat on the edge. He argued the entire time. "I'm fine, Clara. Why are you so caught up on my health today?"

The teacher stood over her friend, hands on hips, eyebrows raised slightly. Typical teach. "You spent an hour in a cave nearly freezing to death because you insisted I take your jacket. I'm just returning the favor."

The Doctor started to rise to his feet, but a strong hand pushed him back down onto the bed. "Sit. Stay here. I'll be right back."

Without another word, Clara paced through the door leading to her on-suite bathroom. The Doctor eyes the TARDIS and mentally muttered, 'This is all your fault,' before shaking his head and turning towards the floor. He soon regretted the action, as his head began throbbing a moment later. Silently, he blamed the TARDIS for that, too.

Clara returned to the room carrying a small thermometer and a look of victory. "Put this in your mouth."

The Doctor's jaw dropped to protest, which gave her the perfect opportunity to stick the annoying device under his tongue. "'lara!"

"Sh. No talking for 30 seconds."

Time ticked on slowly. Clara hovered over him like a hawk, watching his every breath. He no longer had the energy to hide how he really felt, so he slowly closed his eyes and leaned his head on Clara's abdomen. She ran her fingers through the back of his curls, massaging his neck with calming warmth. Suddenly, the thermometer began beeping, uttering its shrill cry, making the Doctor jump back up, ears aching. His fingers soothed his temples as Clara gazed at the number on the device in her hand. "What's a normal temperature for a Timelord?"

"15° Celsius."

Clara eyed him suspiciously and placed the back of her hand on his forehead, biting her lip as she felt the heat radiating off of him. "You're burning up! When were you going to admit that you were ill?"

The Doctor was about to reply when the pounding in his head suddenly reached its peak, forcing a groan as he put his face in his hands. Clara sat beside him on the springy bed, rubbing circles on his back as the wave of pain subsided. "Let's get you to bed."

Clara moved the blankets out from under them and, slowly, the Doctor leaned back so that he was lying down on the mattress. With ease, Clara slipped the boots off of the Doctor's feet and wrapped him in three of her warmest blankets. The Doctor's eyes were closed, breathing slow and heavy, the next time she looked at him. Judging he was asleep, she quietly whispered, "Sleep well, Doctor," and exited the room to her living room, where she huddled with her favorite tea and Jane Austen. She didn't want the Telly to block out any noise from her room, just in case the Doctor needed her.

Time dragged its feet again, this time for 30 minutes instead of seconds. Clara's mind was reeling the entire time, compelling her to read the same sentence 5 times before it sank in. At the end of the thirty minutes, a faint sound perked Clara's ears. It came again. This time, she made out her name, uttered by a certain broken-voiced Timelord. As quickly as she could, she placed the book face down and dashed towards her room, throwing open the door.

The Doctor had definitely seen better days. His breathing seemed labored, eyes closed less peacefully and more painfully. The covers were barely covering his legs, let alone the rest of him. Clara was by his side in an instant, lightly shaking him. When he opened his eyes, they seemed even more distant and glazed over than before.

"What's wrong, Doctor?"

After kicking dry lips, he replied, "I don't feel very well, Clara."

Clara gently stroked his hair. "I know. It'll pass."

"It's only getting worse. My hearts aren't even functioning correctly."

Clara felt her heart skip a beat. "What do you mean?"

Clara dug in his open jacket's pocket and pulled out the stethoscope. As she listened for left heart, she had trouble finding it. Then she realized it wasn't beating. Hiding her panic, she checked the right one and heard its arrythmic pounding. She swallowed hard before taking his hand in hers and looking into his eyes. "It'll be ok. I'll go get some help from the TARDIS, yeah?"

She dropped the stethoscope on the bed and got to her feet, but a strong tug from the Doctor's weak hand stopped her. "Wait; Clara. Don't go."

"You're not thinking straight." Clara carefully unwrapped their hands and placed his on his chest. She felt tears threatening. He wasn't supposed to be helpless. He wasn't supposed to be needy. He was the strong one. If he was this scared, she knew there was something very wrong. "I'll be right back, I promise. I'm just going to grab the scanner and a medkit, and then I'll be right back, alright?"

Against all of her willpower, Clara hastily began making her way into the time machine still hanging around her room, making a beeline for the small medbay located inside. The Doctor watched her go with growing fear and dread. He could only hope she'd be back in time. The one frantic heartbeat he had left seemed to doubt it.


	5. After Effects pt 2

Day 5:

After Effects pt. 2

Clara ran as fast as she could through the corridors of old ship until she finally reached the medbay. With determination set in her eyes and tears held back, she began tearing through the cabinets to find an alien scanner she had seen the Doctor use a few times before to check her for any ailments. A drawer to her right slid open on its own accord, carrying the scanner and a small purse. Clara scooped up the items and shot a quick 'Thank you' up to the TARDIS. Without closing any of the open drawers, she hastened back to the Console room and, then, into her bedroom.

The Doctor was still awake when she entered the room, eyes drifting open and falling on her as she closed the TARDIS doors with a creaky click. The purse dropped from Clara's hand onto the unoccupied portion of bed as she used two shaky hands to turn on the scanner and point it at the Doctor. His breathing still seems too labored and fast.

She ran the scanner up and down his body, as he had shown her to do once before, and then waited impatiently as it made its calculations. Words she didn't understand scrolled across the screen.

"Doctor."

She handed off the scanner and helped her friend sit up against the headboard, practically feeling his headache disturbed as his lazy neck allowed his skull to crash into the wood. With squinted eyes, the Doctor looked at the screen and groaned, "Vinvocci Flu."

"What's...Vin- what was it?"

With a bit more clarity, the Doctor replied, "Vinvocci. The people on the planet we were just on. One of them must've had it."

"Wait; hold on. How bad is this?"

"It's just like a human flu, just worse...much worse."

His eyes drifted closed. He seemed to gradually be getting more and more sleepy. Clara aided him in laying back down, worry flurrying through her. Suddenly his eyes opened and he sat up again, grabbing her arm. "Clara; medicine. In the medkit. Ask the TARDIS what to do...sorry."

With that, his eyes fluttered shut and his body went slack. Clara caught him and carefully laid him down again, feeling her heartbeat in her throat. At least he was still breathing; that was the important thing. As her brain fired into action, her hand grabbed the small purse and her legs sprinted into the TARDIS. Looking up at the Time Rotor, she called out to the ship, only partially feeling insane. "Can you help him? What does he need?"

The purse in her hand began vibrating. She zipped it open and reached in, eyes bulging as half of her arm fit into the bag. Bigger on the inside. Of course. A glowing bottle of purple liquid caught her eye and a second later, it was in her hand. The glow faded away as instructions written on the side became legible. Clara threw a quick 'Thank you' to the ceiling and started for the door, but the ship wasn't done with her yet. After watching the door slam shut loudly, Clara turned confusedly to the controls. "What is it?"

The purse vibrated for a second time. Clara's head turned sharply to its contents until she found another glowing item, this time a cloth infused with cool water. "Right. Bring the fever down. Give him this," she looked at the bottle in her hand. "Anything else?"

The TARDIS hummed quietly, keeping the door locked. Clara rolled her eyes and looked back into the purse, now pulling out a glowing tea kettle. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Not exactly what I was expecting, but alright."

The door swung open now, and Clara ran through everything she needed to do before stepping out of the TARDIS carrying only the three items she had gotten from the medkit. Inside, the Doctor was still sleeping, jest rising and falling sporadically as his one heart struggled to give enough oxygen. His companion slowly approached him, filling the cap of the medicine with the awful smelling liquid.

Clara knelt beside the Doctor. He seemed even more ill up close. Sweat beaded his forehead; his breath came shakily; his eyes were closed tighter than a peaceful sleeper's would be. Gently, her thumb stroked the gray curls just beside his cheekbone. "Doctor?"

The stone lord made no reply. Again, Clara said his name, this time a little louder, but no answer came. Biting her lip, she eyed the unconscious Timelord. He wasn't going to wake up anytime soon; she was certain. Rather roughly, she shook his shoulder, trying her best not to alert him without hurting him, but it was to no avail. All the noise and commotion in the world couldn't wake him. And time seemed to be running short. His face was growing paler and paler by the minute.

Clara brought her left hand behind his head and carefully raised it so his chin touched his chest. She then took the small cup of medicine in her right hand and brought it up to the Doctor's lips. With gritted teeth, she tipped the cup and let the liquid drip into his open mouth. She could only pray she was doing this correctly. Choking her best friend wasn't what she had planned on doing today.

The Doctor seemed to feel the effects of the medicine instantly, coughing and sputtering as he sat up halfway in bed. Clara rubbed his back comfortingly. "It's medicine; you have to drink two more cups of it."

The Doctor looked at her with a look of utter horror, then coughed deeply once more while Clara refilled the medicine cup. He shut his mouth as he brought it towards him. The teacher didn't seem impressed. "Unless you want me to force it down your throat, you're going to have to act a bit more grownup."

His eyebrows raised slightly. This time, when she raise the cup, he opened his mouth and let its contents dribble down his throat, however bitter it tasted. Though grimacing the whole time, he allowed her to pour yet another serving of the medicine into his mouth without protest. Clara tightened the cap over the top of the bottle and picked up the cloth.

The Doctor seemed worn out from his last excursion. His head lolled on the pillow loosely, eyes shut. Clara couldn't tell whether he was awake or not. She placed the cool cloth on his head and he didn't even flinch. Asleep, then.

The young teacher held the cloth over her friend's sweaty forehead with one hand, holding his hand and stroking her thumb across his with the other. His wheezy breaths were still causing her anxiety, but she trusted the medicine to do its work soon. After another minute or two, she let go of the cloth on his head and unbuttoned the first two or three buttons on his shirt. Maybe he wasn't alert enough to feel the difference, but it made him look comfier, so it made her feel better.

At some point, Clara took the stethoscope out again, just to be absolutely sure he was really improving. With a hint of fear lacing through her chest, she placed the cool metal on the Doctor's skin, feeling the calm rhythm of his breath. A heartbeat. Then the other side; another heartbeat. Clara smiled toothily and placed a gentle kiss on the Doctor's knuckles as she held his hand just a bit tighter.

They stayed like this for a seemingly endless amount of time. The Doctor would occasionally shift in his sleep and Clara would adjust she cloth in her hand or how she was kneeling. Her knees were silently paining her, but she didn't care about that right now.

When the Doctor's eyes finally opened again, Clara was right there, gazing at him fondly and carefully. "Hiya."

The Doctor tried to sit up, but Clara lightly gestured for him to stay still. "Don't try to do too much too soon. Do you need anything?"

"Water?"

Clara smiled warmly. "I'll do you one better. How about a nice cuppa tea? I took your temperature and you're basically back to normal, so no more fever."

The Doctor felt a fuzziness in his stomach and chest, lifting any fear or dread he had been feeling earlier that day. Clara. His perfect Clara. What had he done to deserve uh a beautiful human being in his life?

Clara brewed the tea as quickly as she could and returned to her bedroom with two steaming cups full of the delicious, healing liquid gold. She assisted the Doctor in leaning against the headboard, though he insisted he could do it himself, before handing him the warm blue mug. He felt her watching him closely as he took a sip. "What is it?"

Clara shook her head slightly. "Nothing, it's just...you're ok."

They shared a smile. "I told you; I'm always ok."

"But you weren't. You were ill. Properly ill."

"It's fine now, Clara. No harm done."

"I know...I know."

Clara set her mug on the table beside the bed and wiped at her eyes. The Doctor set his down, too, and took her hand. Tears ran down Clara's cheeks as she looked at him. "Your heart stopped. You were barely breathing."

"I know."

"I just...I don't want to lose you, Doctor."

"You don't have to worry about that, Clara."

"I..." Clara's mouth moved, but no words came out. Suddenly her face broke out in a smile and she lunged for the Doctor. "Come here."

The Doctor wrapped his arms around the teacher, their faces pressed into each other's shoulders. The Timelord half in bed, the human half on a chair she had grabbed at some point or other. It was a hug of relief. Of friendship. Of loyalty. Of love.

Slowly they detached from one another and returned to their tea, talking about planets they'd like to see and people they wanted to meet. Clara urged the Doctor to go back to sleep for a few more hours and he obeyed, not because he was tired, but because he feared the look in his teacher's eye when she told him to. The rest of the day passed as days usually do when a big, traumatic event happens. Normally.


	6. The Medicine Man

Day 6:

The Medicine Man

There were only a handful of days when the Doctor actually acted as a normal, medicinal doctor. Only once in a blue moon did he stop running from and chasing monsters to actually take care of someone, the old-fashioned, slow-path way. One of these days happened to be the day after the Vinvocci flu incident, when he finally felt well enough to hop back in the TARDIS and set sail for, well, anywhere. For some reason he couldn't place, Clara seemed a bit less enthused about getting back to the routine. Her gait was slow; sentences short. Even the usual twinkle in her eye as they entered the old ship seemed to have faded, leaving her big brown orbs slightly unfocused and bloodshot.

It wasn't until Clara began coughing and sniffling that the Doctor peered around the Time Rotor, an eyebrow raised. "You ok?"

The human reassured him with a nod. "Yeah; just feeling a bit under the weather."

Red flags flashed through the Doctor's brain. Before another second passed, he paced over to her, hand reaching hastily in his coat pocket. "I need to scan you. There's a chance you might've picked up the flu I had."

"Doctor, I'm fine. It's just a cold."

"Sorry teach, Doctor's orders."

He pulled out the scanner and instantly ran it up and down her body. As it flashed an old Gallifreyan word for 'mild human flu', the Doctor let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "You were right; nothing too serious."

Clara plucked the device out of his hand, eyebrows raised. "Now will you calm down a bit? I'm fine!"

She said the last declaration with a smile, but the Doctor didn't share it. His eyes were locked on the wall behind her. "You know I have a duty of care."

"I know."

They paused a moment, taking each other in. Clara broke it with a coughing fit, ending only when the Doctor put a hand on her back as she practically doubled over. His eyes watched her with worry. Hers gazed at him with sincere thanks. Softly, the Doctor suggested, "Maybe we should take another day off."

Clara nodded in agreement as another cough hit her. When it finally subsided, she hoarsely added, "I should probably get to bed."

The Doctor watched her form retreat across the room, a hand raise to her forehead, a foot stumble. He reached a hand towards her, but she waved him off without even glancing back. "I'm fine. Steering's just a bit off."

The Doctor laid his outstretched hand on the Console beside him, mind focused on the human now descending the metal staircase. "Sleep well, Clara."

She didn't hear him. One reason was because she was far away and his voice was quiet. Another is that, at that moment, she dropped from the bottom step onto the ground without even trying to break her fall.

"Clara?!"

The Doctor's legs carried him swiftly across the room, though a ringing in his ears and a scattered brain made it impossible to tell how or when. She was laying on her side of the cold, hard floor, legs bent slightly. The Doctor dropped to his knees beside her and lifted her carefully into his arms, cradling her head on his lap with his left hand and holding her hand with his right. His eyes scanned over her, searching for any injuries, and found a small cut on her forehead. Softly, he let go of her hand and caressed her cheek with his thumb, worry rising in his stomach. "You're ok, teach. I've got you."

Her wide eyes flickered open, landing on his. They seemed slightly unfocused, but that could've been the flu. She cleared her throat quietly. "What happened?"

"You fainted; are you alright?"

Slowly, she sat up, still leaning on his for support. "I think so. My head hurts a bit."

"You got a nasty scratch on your forehead. We'll take care of that later, though. Let's get you to bed."

"Sounds good."

Carefully, the Doctor helped Clara to her feet, holding onto her the entire time. They made their way to her TARDIS bedroom slowly, pausing anytime Clara felt dizzy or had a coughing fit, which turned out to be pretty often. When the Doctor finally eased his companion down into her bed, she was asleep almost instantly. The Doctor pulled the blanket up to her chin and patted her hand. "Sleep well, my Clara."

He rose to his feet with a sigh and walked slowly to the Console room, where he grabbed the scanner and medkit. It seemed only yesterday he had been in need of those. Oh wait; it was.

When he entered her room for a second time, he was greeted with a softly snoring Clara Oswald, which brought a warm smile to his face. He sank down into a chair beside the bed and ran the scanner over her head, checking for any kind of concussion. Satisfied with the results, (no results), he reached into the medkit and pulled out an antiseptic and bandage, which he applied to the cut on her forehead. He then took the same cloth that had been so helpful to him and gently placed it on her beady forehead, giving her its cool embrace.

He stayed by her side for another forty minutes before she woke up, first watching him before allowing him to know she was awake. His eyes were closed, breath deep. If he hadn't been holding a cloth on her head, she would've thought that he was asleep. He seemed so peaceful. The whole world seemed still. She thought she could stay like that forever. How nice it would be. In the TARDIS. Under these warm covers. The Doctor's gentle hand on her forehead.

A deep, painful cough took her abruptly from her paradise. The Doctor jumped at the sound, quickly standing and moving his hand to her back to comfort her. "Rude awakening, eh, Clara?"

She nodded in between coughs, bringing her knees almost to her chest. The Doctor returned to his medkit and brought out a bottle of red medicine, pulling a face as he did so. "To be honest, this doesn't taste very well, but it'll get rid of that cough in a minute."

Clara eyed the bottle suspiciously as the Doctor poured it into the cap. Before she could protest, his hand was lifting her head up, the other tipping the small cup towards her lips. Clara had no choice but to drink the liquid that was already in her mouth, but the aftertaste made her gag with revolt. The Doctor smirked to himself. "Doctor skills."

Clara seemed less impressed. "That was utterly disgusting."

"But you feel better, don't you?"

Clara nodded in silent agreement, eyes glazing over as she stared at a spot on the wall. The Doctor eased her head back into the pillow and watched her eyes close automatically. "I'll let you get some more sleep."

He made to get up, but Clara's eyes hot open again and a hand grabbed his tightly. "Stay. Please."

The Doctor adjusted himself back into the chair and took her hand in his, kissing her knuckles softly. "Of course."

As his human companion drifted back to sleep, the Timelord stroked her hair with his thumb. Why did such beautiful moments have to come after such difficult days?


	7. Ho Ho Oh No

Day 7:

Ho Ho Oh No

It was noon on the last Sunday before the Christmas holiday at Coal Hill, which meant that the Christmas festival was in full swing. Kids and their families wandering the halls, rooms full of face painting and present wrapping stations. What had made Clara sign up for supervising, she couldn't really answer right now. Her blood pressure was rising more and more with each situation that arise, which happened to be quite frequently.

A sweaty hand held her phone to her cheek as her exhausted lips replied lazily to the man playing Father Christmas later, or not playing Father Christmas, more like. Apparently he was stuck in traffic two hours away. Why, he didn't say. Clara furiously stuffed the phone back into her pocket and took a deep breath before jumping in to stop a young boy from squirting glue into his mouth.

When she next found time for a breath, a line had formed at the Santa Chair she had decorated for an hour yesterday; a line full of bored kids and their frustrated parents. Clara swooped to the front of the line and caught their attention. "I apologize for the wait. Santa is on his way; he just had to stop and...feed his reindeer. Thank you for your patience."

The weak lie would hold them for another five minutes, but it wasn't enough. Suddenly an idea popped into the teacher's head, and she took out her phone and dialed a familiar number.

"You want me to do what?"

The Doctor was in the TARDIS Console Room, drifting quietly above Mars. His Sonic sunglasses still sat on top of his head from his last trip out. The Space Mites had been very close to getting him, but he had managed to unlock the spaceship just in time. Good thing, too. Space Mites were always pretty cross this time of year.

"I need you to come be Father Christmas."

A nervous laugh escaped him. "I don't think so, Miss Oswald."

"Oh, come on. It's just for one afternoon, then we can go to Jupiter or something, I swear."

"Can't the-the bow tie one do it?"

"Who, Adrien? He's busy this weekend. It's just me here."

The Doctor sighed, gazing up at the ceiling, reading his comforting old language written over the Time Rotor. A smile grazed his lips. "Fine; I'm on my way."

"Seriously?"

"I can't leave you there to fend for yourself can I? Angry parents can be more dangerous than all the Daleks on Skaro. Just give me a minute to get changed." Clara thanked him again and set her phone back into her purse, taking a deep breath and allowing herself a moment of peace.

The moment ends abruptly, though, as an enormous sleigh came fading into existence, Santa Claus standing in front of the seat with the reins in his hands. The kids were going wild, as were the parents. Clara was beaming.

The Doctor leaned back with the reins, uttering a playful, "Woah!" as he let the leather drop and turned to the line of excited kids. "Ho ho hello everybody. Sorry to keep you waiting; Rudolph's taking a break, so I got a bit lost on my way here."

The kids and Clara were loving the Doctor's 'Santa' voice. He was perfect. The room was lighting up with every word he spoke and every step he took towards his chair. Clara felt all of her anxiety disappear.

The first child in line, a young girl with blond pigtails, walked shyly up to the Doctor. Under the painfully obvious fake beard, his face lit up in a smile. "Hello; what' your name?"

The small girl looked at the floor and quietly replied, "Cynthia."

Cynthia's mother took her hand and led her up to the chair. "I'm sorry; she's very shy."

The Doctor leaned down and scooped Cynthia up from under her arms, placing her on his lap gently. "What would you like for Christmas, Cynthia?"

The girl glanced at her mother before whispering, "A light saber."

"Good choice. Do you want to be a Jedi some day?"

Cynthia nodded, smiling. "Did you know that a lot of Jedi are shy? And they save the whole galaxy, don't they? See, there's nothing wrong with being shy." The Doctor leaned in and whispered in the girl's ear. "Don't let anyone tell you differently. Shy is a superpower."

The girl's smile grew, revealing two missing front teeth. Her mother lifted her off of the chair, letting the next child up. It was Ryan, a boy whose brother was in Clara's worst behaved class. Ryan seemed to fit in.

The boy instantly sat heavily on the Doctor's legs, sending a flash of pain through the Timelord's body. The Doctor grimaced, hidden behind the beard. Ryan loudly and obnoxiously asked, "Are you really Father Christmas?"

Putting on a happy face again, the Doctor replied, "Of course!"

The boy crossed his arms smugly. "What did you give me last year, then?"

"What's your name?"

"Ryan Thomson."

The Doctor twinkled his eyes at Ryan. "I gave you a skateboard with a blue stripe down the middle, right?"

The boy's eyes widened even more than Clara's ever did. His jaw fell to his chin, and he stayed looking like that until his mother lifted him bodily off of the Doctor. Ryan stared at Santa until he was exited from the room.

Clara watched the kids go up, one by one, the Doctor impressing her more and more as time went by. After the finally few kids were finished, Clara looked at her watch and then closed the door to the 'Santa's Chair' room. The Doctor pulled he bears off of his face as quickly as he could, scratching at his pink chin underneath. "That was the most uncomfortable thing I've ever worn."

Clara's arms wrapped around him tightly, locking his arms up with his hands by his face. Slowly, he maneuvered his limbs out of her grip and folded his hands together on his lap, letting her keep holding him. She seemed close to tears. "Thank you."

"My performance wasn't that good."

Clara's head was buried in his shoulder, but she managed a mumbled, "Shut up; yes it was."

Clara loosened her grasp on his shoulders, giving him a thankful smile. "You honestly saved my life today. You didn't see how angry those kids were before you came. Wait a minute; how did you get here? And where'd you get the Santa suit?"

The Doctor motioned towards the sleigh. "Borrowed a teleporter from a nearby Martian, changed the design a bit, and got this old thing out of the TARDIS wardrobe."

The Doctor pulled the hat off of his head, revealing disheveled hair, flattened by sweat. Clara pursed her lips at him. "You must've been dying in all that."

He made no reply, but eased off the heavy red coat slowly and dropped it onto the floor. He had only a dark blue T-shirt on underneath. Clara took a step towards the sleigh, folding her arms across her chest. "I'll tell you what; I'll fly us back to Mars. How do you steer this thing?"

The Doctor hopped to his feet, grabbing the coat off of the floor as he penguin-jogged over to the sleigh. "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Clara had already jumped into the seat, holding the reins in her hands with a sly smile on her face. "Oh, come on, you got to drive the sleigh last Christmas."

The Doctor sat in the seat beside her, still wearing his big red Santa pants that were held up with white suspenders. His gray hair was still stuck to his forehead with sweat. Clara already missed the poofy curls. With a bony finger, the Doctor pointed to a button on the 'dashboard' of the sled. "Press that and then," he pointed to a lever just under the button, "pull that down slowly. We should end up exactly where it was parked before."

"Right; doesn't seem too difficult. Next stop: Mars."

"Take it away, Teach."

Clara pressed the button and the sleigh began fading away from the room. She pretended not to see the Doctor grip the side of the seat, white-knuckle strong, as she pulled the lever down a bit too quickly.


	8. Baking Time

Day 8:

Baking Time

The Doctor entered Clara's flat to a smell he knew all too well; burning. His sleeve instantly went up to his nose and mouth as he coughed and choked on the horrid smoke hovering around him. A gray filter had masked the entire room, leaving tears in his eyes as he squinted around. He couldn't believe the fire alarm hadn't been set off.

"Clara!"

A voice came from the kitchen and the Doctor rushed to it, preparing for the worst. What he found, however, wasn't a disaster or tragedy. It was simply pitiful.

The young teacher stood leaning on the counter, oven mitt in hand, a tray of black biscuits simmering on the stovetop beside her. Her shameful gaze found the Doctor, who was smiling wide through the disgusting smoke. As she softly sniffed and covered herface in her hands, the Doctor froze, face dropping. He was by her side a moment later, hands on her shoulders comfortingly. "You ok?"

Clara wiped at her eyes and looked sadly at the cookies. "I'm fine; it's just...I'm going to my neighbor's Christmas party in two hours and I told them I'd bring the dessert. I'm not even dressed yet; I still have to shower."

The Doctor pulled her into a hug gently. He still wasn't an expert at this, but he was trying. "Hey, it's not a big deal. We can make the biscuits in the TARDIS. Then we can mess up all we want and still be back in time for the party."

Clara sniffed one last time and looked up into his eyes, hers shimmering and puppy-dog sized. "Really?"

The Doctor sighed quietly and released her. "Don't look at me like that. Do you know how big your eyes get sometimes? It's unnatural."

Clara chuckled to herself. Same old Doctor. Some things never change.

Slowly, they made their way back to the TARDIS through the smoke. The clean air in the time machine was a welcome change for both of their lungs. They seemed to breathe just a bit deeper as they made their way through the corridors to the beautiful TARDIS kitchen that the Doctor insisted was designed by Michaelangelo. Clara never told him the stainless steel appliances disagreed.

The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Right. Do you have a recipe?"

Clara pulled a ripped and stained piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to the Doctor. His eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to read it. "Well there's your first problem. Do you even know what this says?"

Clara looked it over and then back up at him, a guilty look in her eye. "Preheat to...250°Celsius?"

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Are you trying to burn London?"

"Why? Is that hot?"

The Doctor made no reply but a shake of the head as he pulled a box from an upper cabinet. Clara watched him flip through at least ten index cards before pulling one out, an old, orange paper with odd writing in black dye. It didn't look like any language she's seen before. "Why isn't the TARDIS translating?"

The Doctor's eyes seemed to darken slightly. "It's...it's written in Gallifreyan."

Clara couldn't help the curiosity that flooded her brain. Even now, it was rare that the Doctor ever mentioned his home planet, let alone bring up an entire page covered in its writing. "You had biscuits on Gallifrey?"

"Of course. What sort of civilization doesn't have biscuits?"

The Doctor flashed her a smile before going to work quickly. His height allowed him to reach even the highest cabinets and, with ease, he soon had all of the ingredients laid out on the counter. Clara looked over everything with a raised eyebrow. "I don't know what half of this stuff is."

"You'll love it; don't worry. Best biscuits on Gallifrey."

Clara watched him stir together an oddly blue liquid and a few other ingredients. The only thing that seemed vaguely normal was the flour. Quickly, he flew to the cabinet and took out another strange substance, pouring it slowly into the batter. It gradually transitioned to purple. Clara eyed it suspiciously.

Lastly, the Doctor pinched a bit of brown sugar into the mixture and stirred it up a bit, tossing the spoon into the sink with some flair. At lightning speed, he scooped drops of batter and spread them evenly on a baking sheet. Clara though they looked like little purple planets.

When all of the biscuits were on the tray, he weaved easily to the oven and placed it in. Clara remarked with a nod that he had it set to only 200°. Well, at least she had tried.

The Doctor pressed some buttons on a small device over the stovetop and then handed it to Clara. "Give it ten minutes and they'll be the talk of the town."

Without another word, he turned and started to walk out of the kitchen, leaving Clara still hanging on his word. Just as he reached the door, she finally found her voice. "Wait; where are you going?"

The Doctor spun around and, with a completely casual tone, replied, "I have to get ready for the party. You're not going without a date, are you?"

Clara his the smile that his last sentence caused her. "I have to get ready too, you know. I'm filthy."

"You're never even close to filthy, Clara Oswald."

"Was that a compliment?" Clara raised an eyebrow as the Doctor walked out of the room hastily. She gazed at the spot he had just been standing for another moment before turning back to the oven and leaning on the counter, allowing the smile to seep through to the surface.

Ten minutes later, the Doctor and Clara Oswald were both standing in front of the stove, biscuits lying perfectly on a platter in front of them. They were rounder than Clara's usual store-bought biscuits, and, of course, much more purple. The human popped one in her mouth greedily, catching and eating any crumbs that happened to slip out of her mouth. A satisfied hum was all she could say as the perfectly cooked biscuit warmed her inside and out.

"This is amazing."

The Doctor's eyes were fixed on the purple planet-esque shapes in front of him, a mixture of pride and sadness written all over. "A little taste of Gallifrey. The best of it, at least."

Clara cast an eye sideways at him, then grabbed a biscuit hastily with one hand and forced it into his mouth. Unprepared, he tried to stop her sudden attack, but the biscuit was already in his mouth and the wonderful taste had already consumed him.

He was back on Gallifrey. In the good days. His mother was in the kitchen. How long since he had seen her? Kids played outside. It was just him and his mum. He was one of the youngest on Gallifrey. Not old enough for anything bad to have ever happened. The biscuit warmed his throat. It was chilly outside, but in here it was wonderfully warm and toasty. All was well. All was well.

Clara watched the Doctor closely as he closed his eyes with a sigh. A smile lifted his lips. A genuine smile. Comfort. Love. Pure joy. Then she watched the silent tears fall down his cheek. He didn't even seem to notice them. Her hand lifted to his face, thumb wiping away one of his tears ever so gently. Her other fingers drifted through his hair. She didn't feel the tears that now coated her own face.

Slowly, the Doctor opened his eyes, rimmed with pink and shining with tears unshed. The smile still clung to his face, but it faded as he looked to the floor. His cheeks blushed slightly pink as he cleared his throat. "Sorry about that," Clara pretended not to hear his voice break. "Anyway; haven't we got a party to go to?"

They shared a smile of mutual understanding. As they headed out of the kitchen, the Doctor carrying the tray of biscuits and Clara hanging back to watch him, she thought of how important food could really be. Her mum's soufflés; the Doctor's biscuits. In that moment, Clara Oswald swore to herself that she'd learn how to cook and bake properly.

Together, the time travelers entered the party with smiles and biscuits for all. They truly did become the talk of the town, though nobody could quite place what that flavor was. Clara and the Doctor let them keep guessing.


	9. Deck the Halls

Day 9:

Deck the Halls

Cardboard boxes sat in every crevice of the Console Room. Filled with bows and lights and ceramic snowmen, they weren't the Doctor's typical fancy, but Clara had insisted they decorate the TARDIS for Christmas, so here they were. A few of them had tears and folds from the perilous journey they had taken from Clara's cupboard. A few ornaments may have broken as well, but the human assured the Timelord that it was all worth it. He didn't seem to agree.

"Why can't we put all this stuff in your flat? It's all going to be destroyed if we go through the time vortex anyway."

The Doctor was sitting on the bottom few steps of the staircase leading up to his favorite chair and bookshelf, wishing he could just disappear into one of the books up there. In his hands were a tangle of lights, meters long and without any foreseeable end. He had already unknotted it five different times. How did they get so messed up anyway?

"I told you; we can't do any more traveling 'til after the holiday. You know how bad your driving is. I don't think I can come up with an excuse to miss Christmas again."

The Doctor sighed, but he knew she was right. (Wasn't she always?) With his steering skills and the TARDIS' poor navigation, Clara would be lucky to make it back in time for Easter, let alone Christmas.

With one final, frustrated tug, the Doctor untangled the last of the wire, bringing a proud smile to his face. "Clara; look!"

The teacher looked over and rolled her eyes. She had already lined the entire entranceway with Christmas cards and put up a wreath. The Doctor was pitifully behind. "Did you even check to see if they work yet?"

"Of course I did, Clara, I'm not a complete pudding brain."

Without missing a beat, Clara strode over to the outlet in the wall, plugged in the lights, and pursed her lips at the Doctor as they failed to shine. The Timelord stood in shock. "I could've sworn...ah, I see the problem."

The Doctor bent down to an unlit green light and turned it, a smug grin on his face. The bulb twisted out of its socket almost instantly, falling onto the floor and rolling away from him. Though he tried to grab it quickly, before Clara saw, it proved to be difficult to grab and soon slipped out of his grasp once more m Clara watched the hilarity ensue with growing humor.

The Doctor's owlish glare shot up at her as he finally got a hold of the light bulb again, twisting it into place carefully. It still didn't light up.

With a frustrated growl, the Doctor threw the string of lights into a nearby cardboard box and walked to an open box on the other side of the room, where he scooped out a large red ribbon. He returned to the Time Rotor and wrapped the ribbon around it, tying it off tightly in the back with a beautiful bow. He removed his hands gently, gazing at his work fondly. It looked utterly perfect. Clara gave him a small round of applause. "There ya go."

The Doctor turned to her with a smirk, only to hear a crinkling sound from behind him. With wide eyes, he and Clara watched the cylindrical Tome Rotor glow bright, burning the ribbon to pieces. The crisped ends of it fell to the floor sadly.

With furrowed eyebrows, the Doctor glared up at the ceiling of the TARDIS. "What was wrong with it? You know, this is so typical of you. Just trying to make me look bad in front of guests."

Clara raised an eyebrow at him. "You two are like a bickering old married couple."

"She started it this time."

"What about when you missed Saturn by fifty miles and said she 'moved the planets because she was cross'?"

The Doctor nodded, pacing towards Clara slowly. "I had accidentally fried one of her wires. I fixed her later, though."

Clara folded her arms across her chest and turned away with a smile, bouncing towards the door. "You're so married."

"I'll have you know-" The Doctor stopped, finger still in the air, feet stuck to the floor, as his eyes spied a leaf hanging above he and Clara, sitting just on top of the doorway. "Did you put that up there?"

"No. I didn't even know I had mistletoe." The puzzled look on her face assured the Doctor that she wasn't lying.

The Timelord shook his head and made to step away from the branch, but the TARDIS seemed to disagree. Three of the cardboard boxes zoomed over to where they stood, blocking his path. After trying the door, they both sighed, but inwardly smiled. The Doctor looked down at Clara with small smile. "Sorry about the Mrs. She seems pretty adamant."

Clara returned the smile. "Merry Christmas, Doctor."

"And you, Clara Oswald."

Clara leaned up and kissed his cheek, pulling him into a warm hug. The Doctor felt the TARDIS growling in his head, unsatisfied. 'Oh, alright.'

Quickly, he turned his head and kissed Clara's lips, returning his head to her shoulder rapidly with both cheeks burning red. Clara flushed pink, too, but didn't say anything. She simply closed her eyes and leaned in closer to the Doctor's shoulder. The TARDIS hummed contentedly around them.


	10. That's a Wrap

Day 10:

That's a Wrap

If it were possible, Doctor and Clara had gotten even closer over the past few weeks. What with illnesses, traditions, and a kiss or two, it was almost expected. The Doctor had practically moved into Clara's flat, slinking back into the decked out TARDIS only at night when his companion was asleep. It wasn't unlike how Clara had become a permanent resident onboard the TARDIS, when it wasn't Christmas time, at least. Their roles were reversed, Clara taking control and the Doctor was left trailing behind slightly confused, and, for once, the Doctor was okay with that.

The only time it ever really caused a problem was on the 23rd of December, the day before Christmas Eve. It was stressful enough due to the last minute grading before going on holiday and the endless list of things to do, but for Clara, who had taken full responsibility for a fully grown Timelord and had promised herself no rides until after Christmas, the holiday was proving to be that much more difficult. As she sauntered in the door around four O'clock in the afternoon, the Doctor could tell she needed help, and needed it badly. He had tried to be cooperative; tried to make things as easy a possible. But the human wanted everything to be perfect. Every meal she cooked for him (or bought, for the most part). Each load of laundry had to be done as soon as the basket filled. The flat had to look presentable. The Doctor didn't understand her sudden obsession with neatness, but he let it go. At least, he did until now.

Clara's eyes were rimmed with pink. On a different day, the Doctor might've commented on it, suggesting she had picked up the wrong eyeliner, but the glisten in his friend's eyes showed that this was nothing to joke about. She was upset; properly upset. In one hand was her purse, held loosely; barely. Strength had left her. In the other hand was a slip of paper half a meter long. Only a few things were crossed off.

"Hey. How were your classes today?"

Clara looked at him, mouth slightly agape, for a moment before rolling her eyes and shaking her head, pacing quickly towards her room. The Doctor cursed himself and followed the human cautiously. "Stupid question; sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Clara turned back to him, a kinder, gentler look in her eyes, but the glistening had gotten worse. The Doctor could see tears forming on the edges. "I'm sorry, Doctor. I just have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in and I'm stressed out."

"Let me help you."

She raised a hand in protest. "No, Doctor, that's fine, really. I just worked myself up."

"Clara, please; tell me what you need done and I'll do it. It's my pleasure."

Clara's lips curled in a smile. Her wet eyes bored into his for a moment before she abruptly turned to the paper in her hand and looked it over. "I need to buy my dad and gran presents before tomorrow, wrap them, but a new dress, find out how I'm going to explain you again, and at least start marking the Christmas essays my year 10s did this week."

The Doctor pursed his lips and looked over the list with her. "I can get their gifts while you buy yourself a dress, then we can both wrap the presents and mark papers together."

"What about number 4-Explaining you?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Do you still have some of that wine from the field of Spiron? We can make a night of it and see what we can come up with."

The human laughed for the first time that day. "Sounds like a plan."

The Doctor gazed fondly at his friend, taking her in fully. The way her eyes sparkled in the light; the way her cheeks widened when she smiled really big; the giggle that she used only with his corniest jokes or her worst days. Human's were magical creatures, he was sure of it. He'd never met any other species that could make him feel the way humans did. Quite right, too.

They separated, the Doctor walking to the nearest shop with a specific list from Clara on what to buy and Clara taking the tube to her number one boutique, where she had bought all of her best and favorite outfits from. They both found what they were looking for easily; high spirits and the promise of a good night often do that; and they found themselves at Clara's door at the same exact time.

They lugged in their bags with much difficulty, holding the door awkwardly with a wrist or foot, assuring the other that they should go first; the usual. Sure enough, by the time they were settled with the bags of things the Doctor had bought sitting on the table in front of them, it was nearly 8 P.M.. The Doctor looked over his list one last time, making absolutely sure it matched perfectly, before letting Clara look into the bags. A warm smile came over the teacher's face as she gazed at the sparkling watch from her dad's bag. "He's gonna love it. Thank you so much."

She leaned over, gift bag still in hand, covering the Doctor in a big hug. He chuckled into her as he fell back into the back of the sofa. Slowly, he let go, careful not to slip and fall into him as she sat up, and looked into her gran's bag, where she found the exact box of chocolate she had looked all over London for. Her eyes widened at the Doctor. "Where did you find this?"

He shrugged, a smile peeking out of his lips. "I know a guy."

"That didn't sound enigmatic at all."

The Doctor tilted his head back, letting his toothy grin show. "It was nothing mischievous. I just happen to know a lot of people who like a variety of chocolates."

"What's, do you have a friend for every type of chocolate in the world?"

"More like the whole universe."

Clara chuckled again. That beautiful sound. "Tell me again how you don't way 500 kilos?"

The Doctor patted his stomach. "I do a lot of running, see."

They shared a big smile before turning back to the presents. Clara cleared her throat. "Right; time to get to work. You wrap gran's; I'll wrap dad's, then we'll find out what to do with you when they get here tomorrow."

"Sound like a plan."

Clara glanced sideways at him as he got to work. Trying so hard to make it perfect. Measuring twice, cutting once. What had she done to deserve a friend like him? Little did she know that he was asking that same question to himself as he pretended not to notice her staring at him.


	11. The Night Before Christmas

Day 11:

The Night Before Christmas

"Clara! Clara wake up!"

It had been a very, very tiring day for Ms. Clara Oswald. A Christmas supper; unexpected guests; improvised explanations of whereabouts and a strange friend; today had taken all of her energy. It was for this reason she was already sleeping peacefully in her bed when the Doctor dashed into her room. To put it plainly, she wasn't amused.

"Doctor; what is it?"

The Doctor's eyes were wide, like a hyperactive child's. "Did you hear it?"

Clara wiped her eyes sleepily and sat up in bed. The Doctor hadn't even turned on a light. It was completely dark. The nearly full moon outside acted as the only source of light, making him appear even more skeleton-like than usual. "Hear what?"

The slim alien pranced to the window, gazing into the cloudless sky, eyes flitting left and right. His face was pressed fully up to the glass. Every time he took a breath, it fogged the windowpane just a bit more. "Sleigh bells."

By this point, Clara was awake enough to sigh at him, dropping her head onto her knees as her arms hugged herself warmly. "Doctor; please don't tell me you woke me up because for Santa Claus."

The Doctor furrowed his brow at her. "Don't you remember last Christmas? What if he's back to tell us this is a dream? I did have a bit of a headache earlier."

Clara stood beside him, placing both hands on his shoulders and looking into his eyes. Hers had circles beneath them. "Doctor; you're being ridiculous. Even by your standards. What's actually wrong?"

"I could be having my brain devoured by an alien crab and you're asking me what's wrong?"

Clara looked out the window, biting her lip. Sharply, she turned back to the Doctor. "Know what? I know what's wrong. And I know you'll never admit it. But I know."

With a sly smirk, the Doctor questioned, "And what do you think is wrong?"

Clara gave the exact same smile back to him. "You're bored."

"Bored."

Clara pursed her lips. She had him. "Bored out of your mind. You've been stuck on Earth for too long. You're almost wishing for something to happen."

"And why would you think that?"

"Because I feel the same."

The Doctor perked up at that, and he looked at her with even more fondness. "Really?"

Clara sat up on her knees. "Yeah. I mean, it's nice to be home and all, but I'm dying to go and...save a planet or something. Hang out with Jane Austen again. Have tea with a three eyes lizard."

"We can do all three at once, if you want to."

They shared a laugh, ending only with a familiar sound of sleigh bells in the distance. Both Timelord and companion turned confusedly up to the sky, then to each other. The Doctor was the first to speak. "Do you think-?"

"No."

Clara shook her head, looking out the window once more. "No way."

Telepathically, they thought up an idea and made a dash for the living room. No presents under the six foot tree Clara had found and bought less than two weeks ago. No candy canes sticking out of the two stockings hanging above the Telly. The only thing that grabbed Clara's attention was a small plate of mince pies with a bottle of brandy beside them. She turned to the Doctor, who was gritting his teeth and not meeting her gaze.

"Did you do that?"

He didn't answer the question, but looked up at a spot on the ceiling, finding a fascinating shadow easily. Even in the darkness, Clara knew he was blushing like mad. A smile came to her face. "That's really sweet."

This time, the Doctor replied, speaking a bit too quickly to be telling the truth. "Sweet? Definitely not me, then, see?"

Clara's smile widened to a toothy grin. "Aw, come on. You and I both know you're a big sweetheart underneath all that grumpiness."

The Doctor huffed, still embarrassed and proud. Clara took a step closer to him. "Was this because you were bored, too?"

Finally, the Doctor let his tension go. "Yes. The TARDIS locked me out again. She said I've been pretending to work on her for too long now and I have to spend more time in here. Have you ever tried staying up with nothing to do while the person you're with is asleep? It's a nightmare."

"So you're response to boredom is to bake for Father Christmas."

"Tonight it is...apparently."

Clara took his hand in hers and smiled up at him. "Never change, Doctor."

She led him quietly back to her room and handed him an old, tattered book before getting under the covers. "Here's something to do for a while; read me a story."

The Doctor looked over the cover. It was 'The Night Before Christmas'; an ancient copy, it seemed. Clara snuggled deeper into her blankets as he pulled over a chair. "My mum and dad used to read it to me every Christmas Eve."

The Doctor sat in the chair and opened to the first page, coughing as the dust filtered up into his face. Clara apologized with quickly closing eyes. "'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."

The book seemed to have a sleeping pill seeped into its pages. Before hardly two pages had been read, Clara was sound asleep again, snoring lightly as the Doctor read on, too tired himself to notice his sleeping companion. He soon joined in her slumber, head leaning back on the chair with the book still open in his hands on his lap. The distinct sound of sleigh bells chimed outside as the time travelers slept.


	12. A Merry Christmas

Day 12:

A Merry Christmas

The sun filtered through Clara's window slowly, creating slowly shrinking shadows as the morning progressed. The Doctor and his companion were in the same positions they had been all night; he in the chair with his head lolled back, and her in her bed beneath two of her comfiest blankets. It was a quiet, peaceful morning. Not even the birds were stirring. All seemed right with the world.

The Doctor's eyes fluttered open, and he quickly became awake of the dull ache in his sore neck. Falling asleep sitting up was not what he had meant to do, for reasons that were now being made clear. He adjusted himself grumpily, but froze when his eyes landed on Clara's still sleeping form. Her head was facing him, a small smile playing at her lips. Good dreams. Happy thoughts.

Her chest rose and fell evenly. Slowly. It was mesmerizing. She was so beautiful. The Doctor's blue eyes sparkled as he gazed at her for another moment, an unknowing smile coming to his face as well. If only life could always be this simple and quiet and peaceful.

As the sun rose higher and the shadows drifted to the back of the room, near the door, Clara's eyes slowly opened, taking in the Doctor in front of her instantly. The smile on her face grew. So did his.

"Good morning, Clara."

"Good morning, Doctor."

She sat up and pushed the blankets away from herself quickly. Her purple pajamas were ruffled and wrinkled and her hair was a bit of a mess, but neither of them cared in the slightest. Her hand found the Doctor's easily, and she led him to the living room without any further delay. He didn't even try to protest.

Clara's knees collided roughly with the wooden floorboards beside the tree so that she could turn on the switch for the lights on the Christmas tree. The room seemed so warm and pretty with the decorations and white string of lights. It was just like a Christmas card, only better. So much better.

The Doctor sat next to her on the floor and pulled a small box out from under the tree, where he had put it last night. Clara's eyes widened in shock. "You didn't have to get me anything."

The Doctor handed her the box gently. "You're my favorite person to shop for."

Clara felt a fluttering in her chest from his words, but she ignored it and tore into the wrappings. He had wrapped it so perfectly; it must've taken hours. She knew how sloppy he usually was with that kind of thing.

Inside the paper was a black box, about the size of her hand. She opened the top of it with apprehension and gazed at the wonderful object inside it with wonder and awe.

It was a necklace. Not just any necklace, though. Instead of sparkles or jewels or diamonds, it held a glowing, shining round blue marble in its center. It was almost definitely not from Earth.

"It's beautiful."

The Doctor smiled at Clara's smile, easing up a bit. He sat back and leaned on his hands, relaxed. "It's from an old civilization that was founded on the belief that if you wore this special rock, you'd always be safe. This was one of the last ones ever made."

Clara looked at the rock in her hand, then at the Doctor. "It's TARDIS blue."

His eyes shifted ever so slightly away from her. "That was intentional. I...I got it because...well, because...I want you to know that you're safe. With me. In the TARDIS. That I'll never let anything happen to you."

He looked at the floor, clearly embarrassed. "It was silly. Don't know what I was thinking."

Clara's arms were wrapped around him before he could degrade himself anymore. He merely closed his eyes and let her hold him there, rather tightly. Her voice came in his ear quietly. "Thank you, Doctor."

She pulled away from him, her eyes shining in the reflection of the tree lights. After a moment's pause, she turned and scooped up a box from behind a low hanging branch, wrapped in red paper with a green now on top. She passed it off to the Doctor quickly. Her movements were jumpy enough to know she was nervous.

The Doctor ripped the seams of the wrappings slowly, taking in the whole moment as it passed. His brain was trying to work out what it was before he saw it, though he tried to shut it up. Sometimes having an overactive mind wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

The paper peeled away, revealing an odd cubical object that made the Doctor's eyebrow furrow. Clara picked at her fingernails anxiously. "It's a...it's like a Dream Catcher. It's from, ugh, I don't remember what the planet was called, but they said it helps you stop having bad dreams. When you start having a nightmare, it, ugh, it helps calm you down. Gets you back to sleep quickly. They said eventually you wouldn't even have bad dreams anymore."

Clara seemed to gain more confidence, and met the Doctor's gaze. "That is why you don't sleep often, isn't it? Besides the 'superior biology' stuff? You have nightmare."

Clara couldn't read the Doctor's expression. All of his focus was on the device in his hands, staring absently at its surface. Slowly, he turned his face up to her. His eyes seemed to be rimmed with pink. It was obvious he was nearly crying. Clara felt a pang in her chest. 'I went too far'.

All of a sudden, the 'Dream Catcher' dropped to the ground and, before Clara could grasp what was happening, the Doctor's arms were wrapped around her shoulders, his face buried in the crevice between her neck and shoulder. Slowly, she regained her senses and returned the hug, rubbing circles over his back. She could tell he was definitely crying now.

After a moment, she heard his slightly cracking voice. "Thank you, Clara."

The weight lifted from her chest. Smiling through the tears that had fallen down her own face, Clara whispered, "Merry Christmas, Doctor."

The Doctor lifted his face enough for Clara to see his tear-stained, smiling face. "Merry Christmas to you, Clara Oswald."

The two best friends stayed in an embrace beneath the tree for another five minutes. Time stood still. But, then again, time always stands still for time travelers. It wasn't long before they were back in the TARDIS, going on adventures and saving the universe. The twelve days they had spent together during the Christmas season was soon long past, but it was never forgotten. A little domestics never hurt anyone, even a grumpy old Timelord. He just had to have the right person show him that. And, for the Doctor at least, Clara Oswald was always the right person.


End file.
